Not a toy,

Not a toy,

A gaudy bracelet

Wrapped in golden foil.

A birthday gift,

From a child.

Tightly bound,

In brightly coloured

Tissue paper.

Nestled in cotton wool,

Carefully placed,

Too fragile to touch.

Made from shells

Like fresh laid eggs.

And you,

The mother hen,

Closely guarding

A secret stash,

In a treasure chest

Full of history.

Where the mystery

Of your life

Is held.

Childhood memories,

In pink and blue,

A tiny sock

Baby shoe.

A lock of hair,

Fine and fair.

A baby tooth,

The first to fall.

You, the tooth fairy

For good and all.

And in a brown paper bag,

A baptismal robe,

Too good to wear.

All packed in,

So tenderly.

With a first birthday card,

A gift to Santa,

Thanking him

For remembering.

He always did,

And wish he still came by.

You stop,

To touch the photograph,

A face,

So young,

And still you cry.

Even now,

When so much time has gone

And life, has stolen

Golden

Dreams away,

Though memories

Cloud with age,

Words disappear

From the page,

They never, ever die.

Just let them try.